


Kinship

by Rebel_Atar



Series: Yondu Week [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Yondu takes in strays, kraglin needs a less stressful life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Atar/pseuds/Rebel_Atar
Summary: For Yondu week. Day 1 prompt: Slavery. Arranging a contact at a clients art gallery goes in an unexpected direction.





	Kinship

Yondu was bored. 

 

Oh it was a nice enough little art show. Lots of shiny things ripe for thieving. Unfortunately he was supposed to be meeting with the owner to finalise a contract. That meant no stealing from him, at least until after the job was over. 

 

The drinks weren’t strong enough, the tiny trays of tinier food weren’t filling enough, and everyone here thought they were better than him. So Yondu was bored. This meant that Kraglin was worried because he knew the things that generally happened when the captain got bored.

 

Finally the high-to-do owner of the place made his appearance. Kraglin started to relax, soon they would be out of here and on their way to do something much more fun and he wouldn’t have to stand feeling out of place and waiting for something to go wrong.

 

He waltzed his way down a glistening staircase that was polished to almost mirror shine. Kraglin didn’t see the point. People were only going to walk all over it anyway. He hated being in these sort of places. It reminded him of the people who used sneer at him in the gutter on their way by. Those days were long behind him now but it still grated. These people who had never had to earn anything they had. Kraglin might be a Ravager but as far as he was concerned a lot of effort went into stealing from people, plus all the other jobs they pulled. He had more than earned everything he had. Certainly more than these people ever had.

 

Then the owner brought out the pride and joy of his collection and from the way his captain tensed up immediately he knew things just  _ had _ gone wrong. He glanced up at the raised podium and swore emphatically.

 

A matching set of Depaxii pleasure slaves, one from each subspecies. Four stood hollow eyed and resigned, empty, broken. One, the youngest by the looks of her had held her head high, pride and anger oozing from every pore. If they had pores, Kraglin didn’t know much about the Depaxii. 

 

The owner made a show of them, boasting about how much of a rarity his collection was. Two didn’t even need muzzles, broken so far they didn’t even think of using their war teeth. Didn’t even think about defending themselves anymore. Kraglin glanced over at his captain and winced at the shade of navy his face was turning. Kraglin recognised that colour. It indicated pure, unbridled rage.

 

Yondu held himself still. He felt himself sweating from the anger boiling, red hot in his gut. Enslaved when the Badoon desolated their system the Depaxii had faded into obscurity over passing centuries. Most were ill kept and did not survive long under their masters, having one was more important than keeping one alive. They could always be stuffed and displayed if they died. Adjusting their slave’s environments to keep them alive would have taken some measure of caring. Something that in Yondu’s experience not a single person who owned a slave was ever in possession of.

 

Every breath the slaves took caused decorative chains to jingle where they lay. The cuffs binding their hands were practical in contrast. Solid, heavy, Yondu could feel the weight of them around his own wrists. Could feel an answering weight thick and tight around his neck even though these slaves did not bear the same collar.

 

Any Depaxii remnants were of considerable value in the parts of the galaxy that slaving was common in. Much to Yondu’s displeasure this meant basically anywhere out of reach of the Nova Corps. He didn’t come across it often. When he was on Stakar’s crew he was certain the man kept him away from any missions where he would have come across it.

 

Now as a captain of his own crew he refused jobs from known slavers. If given the chance he would just end up killing the client. That sort of thing made it difficult to keep getting contracts. Yondu ground his teeth as he watched the slaves be paraded about. Each one made to twirl and pose, to show off their ‘assets’. These slaves had probably never seen the blood soaked sand of a fighting pit, a familiar sight to Yondu. He did not think them any less abused for it.

 

Kraglin shifted uncomfortably next to Yondu. He knew how his captain felt about slavery. If he’d been worried before he was now certain that their contract was a write off. His captain stared  off into the middle distance, lost in memories he didn’t even share with his first mate. He wondered how they were going to explain this one to the crew. As Yondu swaggered forward, Kraglin cursed again. This was going to get messy.

 

Just as the captain swept his ravager coat to one side, exposing the arrow. That one young, defiant slave, managed to bite through her muzzle. It was around this point that all hell broke loose.

 

She ripped the throat out of her owner. 

 

She didn’t even glance at the guards or guests. The moment that muzzle broke she was on him, war teeth buried gum deep into his neck, sickly yellow blood spilling all over the floor. Yondu listened with a growing grin to the sounds of skin tearing and tendons snapping. The heartwarming sound of a scream morphing into a gurgle of bubbling blood. 

 

The guests screamed and panicked as the guards tried to get things under control. One of them lost two fingers from the second knuckle. He was the lucky one, she took the others whole hand. 

Yondu tipped his head back and laughed at the chaos. The other slaves cowered in a corner, afraid of repercussions, the guests trampled over each other to get as far away as possible, and Yondu pocketed every little trinket he could fit in his coat as he strolled up to the podium. Kraglin followed suit, jumpsuit beginning to bulge. If they weren’t going to get a job out of this they might as well get some loot to sell. 

 

The slave’s eyes were wild. Yondu saw his past reflected back in them. Anger and hatred so familiar it still coiled in his veins during the night-cycle and poisoned his dreams with memories. Until he woke shaking and sweating. There was no fear left in her, certain of her death but uncaring as long as she took her master down first. Yondu could respect that. He could also respect anyone who could tear out a throat with their own teeth unassisted. It was one of the  _ many _ reasons he kept Kraglin around. 

 

The girl’s wrists were bound together but she was still giving the guards a run for their money. A good shot with a taser to the spine took down most species though and as she dropped, unconscious, Yondu raised an appreciative eyebrow at the oozing yellow mess that was her former owner. His throat was gone down to his spine, which now had jagged score marks across it from where the girl’s teeth had scraped into the bone. The skin of his chest mingling with the strips of his shirt where they had been both been shredded together by her clawed hands.

 

One guard flipped her over onto her back and knelt on her shoulders, another pulled out a nasty looking tool and started walking toward her. Yondu cleared his throat, anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “What, exactly does you think you’s doing?”

The guard barely spared him a glance, hand dripping blood from the stumps that used to be two fingers and a grim look on his face. “We’re going to take that second row of teeth out. Shocked out and pinned down is probably our only chance at it.”

 

“They’re worth more with their teeth though?” This was from a third guard, he looked uncertain about the proceedings, lingering in front of the four other slaves to make sure they stayed in line.

 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Grunted the first guard, his thick purple lips pulled back in a grimace. “You want to be missing a hand too?” The other guard looked sheepish and shook his head. “I didn’t think so and I’m not losing more fingers to this bitch when she tears through another muzzle.” 

 

There was a whistle and suddenly he was looking down the slowly rotating point of an arrow.

 

“Now, lets not be so hasty here boys.” Yondu purred. The guard tried not to wet himself. He mostly succeeded. By the time Yondu was finished anyone loyal to the gallery owner had been thoroughly aerated by way of yaka arrow.

 

Three hours later and the four meek slaves had been dropped off somewhere with a few less cages and some open land. Cuffs broken. Muzzles burned. It had been a risky little trip into Nova territory but they would be in for a better life their if they could ever piece their minds back together. Yondu pitied them. What they had seen and experienced was beyond horror but they hadn’t been strong enough to weather it. There was no shame in that but Yondu found it was something he couldn’t identify with. 

 

On course towards a job Tullk had managed to dig up and Yondu was feeling a lot more chipper. He was, in fact, humming some filthy bar song under his breath as he secured their new ‘friend’ to a chair. He didn’t like tying her up, not like this anyway. Not after what was probably an entire life in chains. He wondered if, like Yondu, she knew next to nothing about her culture. If she had been born a slave or sold as a newborn. Did she even know who she was without the chains.

 

Here she might have the opportunity to find out, if she was useful enough. Finish off the last knot and feeling like the possibility of losing his face to rows of sharp black teeth was now quite smol, he stepped back. Kraglin was lurking against the far wall, watching for her response. Yondu wasn’t much fond of the idea of Kraglins knife in the girls skull if she tried something but a little insurance wasn’t a bad thing.

 

With twitches and spasms as her nerves readjusted to post-taser consciousness the Depaxii girl slowly came to. Yondu grinned at her as she struggled and snarled against her bonds. “Welcome aboard the Eclector.”

 

It took a few days for her to warm up to the idea that she was actually free. It took a few weeks after this and a couple of stops for her to actually believe it. She was as vicious as Yondu had hoped she’d be and damn handy with tech. The little girly had a knack for getting into systems she shouldn’t have access to, a talent Yondu had every intention of cultivating. They could use a hacker. 

 

She was filthy too. Once they had the translators updated with Depaxii her growls and trills translated to swearing every other a world and a mind that could dredge up enough depravity to make even some of the older ravagers blush. Yondu hadn't been aware Tullk was even capable of blushing, over the years he’d seen just about everything. 

 

It stung a little every time it happened. She was too young to be so jagged. So bitter. Too young to understand what she talked about let alone be so familiar with some of things. At night he came across her sometimes. Far from the bunks where she should be asleep, curled up between the cargo crates sobbing. She needed to get it out of her system before too many of the crew cottoned on but, when he thinks back on how he was after Stakar picked him up,  Yondu couldn’t bring himself to scold her for it.

 

He saw himself mirrored in copper mottled skin and large green eyes. In sharp teeth and a sharper tongue. He saw survival and, remembering what he did, he gave the girl space enough to learn how to live instead.

 

A few months of yelling the word ‘Depaxii’ into the depths of the Elector or down the com lines and she eventually spat out a name. Adrastia. It sounded a little too upmarket for a Ravager. Adra she was dubbed and Adra she remained from then on.

 

Two years later she flicked her clawed hands through holoscreens, picking out data into neat little chunks before weaving them all together and getting them balls deep into a ledger system. Little tallies of goods in and out and what got sold to who float in front of Yondu’s face. If his grin looked like it would split his skull it was out of greed for the amount of scores they could pull. Not pride for how far the little pleasure slave had come.

 

The darkness of her past still showed in shadows behind her eyes, moments where she was caught staring off into the void at something only she could see, but she’d earned her flames and then some since coming aboard.

 

Another asset for his Ravager crew, another misfit under his wing. Another slave whose freedom was born in Ravager flames. He feels like he’s carrying on some kind of grand tradition and whilst he’s never been one for all that nonsense Yondu has a deep sense of satisfaction every time a black toothed smile was coaxed from Adra’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom. Please tell me if you spot mistakes I don't have a beta. 
> 
> Comments are love.


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